


Luck

by FreckledSkittles



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Banter, Barisi Winter Fanworks Exchange 2020, Conflict Resolution, First Kiss, Flirting, Getting Together, M/M, Trapped In Elevator, Tuxedos, Yeahhhh, i wrote it ofc it has banter, uhhh idk what else to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28459494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreckledSkittles/pseuds/FreckledSkittles
Summary: There is no such thing as luck. There was no such thing as luck. Rafael isn’t too sure now. Being stuck in an elevator will do that to a person.
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr.
Comments: 22
Kudos: 61
Collections: Barisi Holiday Exchange 2020





	Luck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TonyandJasonsGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TonyandJasonsGirl/gifts).



> I was so excited to write this for TonyandJasonsGirl!!! They had some really good prompts and it took me a while to decide which ones to do, but I'm happy with how this turned out! Especially with that ~heated~ Barisi kiss oooooooo (no spoilers, it's all in the tags babeyyyy)
> 
> I hope you enjoy what I wrote, friend!! <3

There is no such thing as luck. Rafael believed that before he ended up stuck in an elevator, dressed in his finest tux and complimenting accessories, with a man who looks just as dashing (though not as much as Rafael) in a tux. The same man who only took an hour and a half in an enclosed space in One Hogan Place before he tugged on Rafael’s lapels and kissed him into silence. The same man Rafael never thought would be interested in him in any way beyond the easy banter they had established as coworkers. It was different than the one Rafael had with the rest of the squad—they always stayed within work limits, always referenced a component of a case they were working on or a suspect who had come in. But this man—this ethereal man, with long arms and an accent picked up from the underbelly of an old taxi that had been dwelling with a pack of sewer rats for ten months, and a list of characteristics that fulfills every damn Italian-American stereotype—had to be different.

There is no such thing as luck. There  _ was _ no such thing as luck. Rafael isn’t too sure now. Being stuck in an elevator will do that to a person.

_ Ninety minutes earlier _

“You’re late,” Rafael states without looking up from his phone. Carisi hadn’t even knocked on the door before Rafael spoke up. The gala they were attending happened every year and was nothing more than a boring gathering held by the city to honor the various civil servants—for doing their duty to some, for doing their job to Rafael. Both SVU and the Sex Crimes Bureau were invited as part of the honored guests. Rafael usually passes when the invitation is extended to him, but he just had a tux refitted and he looks stunning in it. So he’ll be using the winter gala as an opportunity to show off his new suit, which was a beautiful shade of purple and matched with various shades for the perfect accents. What better chance to flaunt it than a stuffy get-together to, if anything, praise the city for having such fine civil servants?

Carisi huffs at his comment. “I had to fix some details on a casefile. Forgive me for making you wait.”

“I’ll think about it.” Rafael glances up at him and has to do a double take when he realizes that Carisi is dressed in a tuxedo. He had been expecting his dress blues, maybe even the suit he had worn to work, but not a tux that’s deep midnight blue in color and tailored perfectly to his body. “On second thought,” Rafael pockets his phone and smirks, “this may be enough.”

Carisi looks down at himself, turning his legs over to try and see what’s wrong with his clothes. “Is it too much? Liv said the gala was fancy.”

“I’d be concerned if you weren’t dressed like that.” His eyes fall onto Carisi’s tie and immediately notice how off it looks. One side is tugged just a bit too far and ruins the even proportions of his attire. “Your tie is messed up.”

This time, Carisi is the one smirking. “Are you sure you’re not just saying that because you wanna show off yours?”

If Rafael raises his head to show off the diamond knot of his bow tie, a deep plum decorated with tiny lilac dots, and if Carisi chuckles at it, he pretends not to notice. He knows he looks good in any color, but there’s something about different shades of purple that Rafael loves to experiment with. It’s precisely why he abandoned the typical black tuxedos that will be worn by every other person at the gala and opted for a dark purple instead, the jacket and tie plum and accented with lighter shades. Combined with how well he wore it, he was positive it was going to earn him some attention.

“As happy as I am that you noticed,” Rafael says, laughing under his breath when Carisi rolls his eyes, “your tie is crooked.” He holds up a hand in a silent offer and pulls the tie loose when Carisi nods. Rafael straightens the silky fabric out and begins to re-tie it properly.

“I’m surprised you’re focusing on what I look like,” Carisi teases. “I could have sworn you would want everyone to be looking at you.”

Rafael smirks at that. “That assumes two things. One,” he pulls on Carisi’s lapels in an attempt to get him to stop fidgeting, “that your current state of attire is somehow enough to quiet me down, which it’s not. And two,” he finishes tying the bow and takes a step back to admire it, much more satisfied with how even it lines up, “that you looking bad won’t make  _ me _ look bad by association.”

Carisi rolls his eyes again. “Keep talking and I’m gonna regret offering to chauffeur you to this thing.”

They make their way to the elevator, Carisi leading the way and holding his arm out when the doors open so that they don’t close. Rafael presses the button for the ground floor and pulls his phone out of his pocket on habit. He has always used the mild silence of the lift to check messages and send replies. He sends off two texts, one to Olivia and the other to his mother, one asking for an arrival update and the other wishing him a good time at the gala.

The elevator jerks and stalls; Rafael stumbles and nearly drops his phone when the lights suddenly flicker and go out. Carisi, long legs spread out and hands gripping the railing behind him, looks around the elevator as if he could see through the darkness and past the walls. “What was that?” He asks.

“The elevator does that sometimes,” Rafael says nonchalantly. One Hogan Place’s elevator was not the best and was long past due an upgrade. It was simply nearing an inability to function properly, but it could still run, if a bit slow. Judging by Carisi’s stare, he’s unimpressed with the information. Rafael scoffs, “What do you want me to say? It’s an old building.”

Carisi leans over and presses the button to open the doors. On the bright side, they open all the way. Unfortunately, they’re caught between the first and ground floors, with only enough room to stick their legs out. At least it’s enough for air to flow between the elevator and the ground floor they were so close to reaching. But for the time being, they are unequivocally stuck.

_ Ten minutes in _

The elevator operator gets in touch with them fairly quickly and outlines the issue: there was a problem with some wiring, most likely a broken fuse connected to the elevator cabs, but something entirely fixable. Someone was heading to the basement as they were talking, and the operator assures them they will be out soon. For the time being, they should stay put and wait until the elevator is back to functioning regularly to try anything. The operator swears to remain on the line with them until they’re out. Rafael ghosts through the information—it’s not his first time being stuck in an elevator. It had happened twice in Brooklyn, and both had been much worse than now. Carisi, who was more of a talker anyway, does most of the talking and plops on the ground when the operator, still available if they communicate with them, steps off of the intercom to talk to the mechanic working the fuse.

“You’re going to wrinkle your suit,” Rafael points out.

Carisi shrugs. “It’ll be fine. I can fix it before we reach the gala.”

Rafael’s nose curls, though he shouldn’t be surprised that someone like Carisi—who might not put the same focus as him into this type of dress—wouldn’t see the problem of a wrinkled tux. He probably didn’t realize there was a difference between the quality of a tuxedo and the material he wore for work every day. “I hope so. I’m not going to the gala with you if you look like a mess.”

Carisi smirks at him. “If I didn’t know any better, Counselor, that made it sound like a date.”

Rafael chuckles to hide the flush of red covering his face. As much as he respected the younger man, he couldn’t bring himself to taint their careers with a relationship as professionally close as theirs. Carisi would be scrutinized for any case he brought to the DA’s office, and Rafael would be questioned for any perp he put away at the bequest of SVU. It was far too much trouble for both of them. But at least they could flirt with the idea, at least when it was between the two of them. “If this was a date, you’d be dressed much nicer than that.”

With a puppy-eyed look, Carisi glances between his attire and Rafael. “This is the fanciest thing I have.”

“That’s part of the problem.”

The intercom sputters to life once more but just as quickly cuts off. The two of them wait with bated breath for something, anything, to happen but it never comes. The lights they can see from their limited view of the lobby flicker on and off before they are plunged into darkness. Carisi shuffles for something and the elevator car is filled with light, straight from his cell phone.

Rafael leans against the elevator wall with a groan. If the lack of a sizzling hum of electricity was any indication, the power has gone out. The evening does not seem to be working in their favor.

“Well,” Carisi finally says, legs spread out in front of him, “that’s some luck, huh?”

_ Twenty minutes in _

“It’s back,” Rafael says eagerly, staring at the four tiny bars in the top corner of his phone. The smallest is filled in but the second is still flickering in and out. Better than nothing.

Carisi hops up to look for himself and grins. “That’s great! See,” he slaps his shoulder, “I told you it’d be up. Cell services usually have backup generators during an outage like this.”

Once the generators had sputtered on to provide a small amount of light to the lobby, Carisi had theorized that the power outage was city-wide. His point was—allegedly, as far as Rafael was concerned—only supported with the fact that their cell service had been erased to nothing after the fact. The matters could be related but it was equally likely for the events to coincidentally happen at the same time.

Before he can begin typing out a message, Carisi speaks up again. “Send it to the others. Just in case Liv doesn’t see it.”

Rafael opens the group chat he’s in with the squad and reads out his message as he writes it. “Carisi and I are okay. Stuck in an elevator at Hogan Place. Will update you when we know more.”

Carisi nods; with a press of a blue button, the message is sent. “That should be enough. Right?”

“Let’s hope so,” Rafael sighs. “All we have to do now is wait. For all we know, they might be unfazed.”

“But it didn’t sound like that,” Carisi counters. “When the power first went out, it sounded big, like a giant surge of energy. There’s no way it’s just on our grid.”

“I’d beg to differ, but I would love to be proven wrong.”

Carisi looks at him, not just in the literal sense but in a critical way as well. His eyes puncture through whatever defenses he may have had, sharp like icicles and quick like daggers. Rafael suppresses a shiver when he speaks. “Do you believe in luck, Counselor?”

“Luck,” Rafael repeats. He swallows around a witty retort and settles for mild honesty. Growing up in a household that was heavily superstitious had twisted him into only accepting luck when he felt it had a higher chance of benefiting him. Or, to use his mother’s wording, he was in denial of just how aware he was of it all. “I don’t think there’s any ‘luck’ to believe in, since it’s not something that can just be manifested.”

“Not even a little? No lucky tie or superstition to prevent bad luck?”

Rafael scoffs. “What am I, a baseball player? No, I don’t have either of those. My actions and my efforts dictate my success, not random chance.”

“It’s about more than random chance though.” Carisi shrugs and crosses his arms, gripping his biceps in a vice grip. “I dunno, maybe I’m being too critical of it, but the way I see it, luck isn’t something to believe in like a religion. It just happens. And good or bad, we take it and adapt to either do it again or prevent a repeat.”

“Are you telling me this was meant to happen? Because that would be inevitability, Detective, not luck.”

Carisi opens his mouth but closes it just as quickly. Whatever he had wanted to say is swallowed and doesn’t come out when he clears his throat and nods to Rafael’s phone. “Any response?”

Although he is much more interested in hearing what he was initially going to say, Rafael lets it go and shakes his head. It’s better to keep some semblance of peace while they’re stuck here. “Nothing yet. I could send a separate text to Liv and see if it’ll show as delivered.”

“That sounds good.”

_ Thirty minutes in _

The message doesn’t show as delivered.

They both try to talk to the elevator operator. Carisi brings up pressing the emergency button if they don’t hear back soon. Both of them have stripped their jackets off, and Carisi’s tie hangs loose around his neck. His belt is curled up and placed to the side as he splays out as best he can. Rafael stays standing but his legs are threatening to buckle. As comfortable as his shoes were, he only wore them for special occasions. His feet weren’t used to them, hence the ache that dug into his soles. At the very least, the temperature in the car has stayed relatively cool and the light peeking out from the gap of the floor below them keeps them out of complete darkness.

“You should sit down,” Carisi states. Rafael ignores him for now and pulls out his phone. Still nothing, and the second bar of service has vanished. Maybe he could try his mother—if she was in the Bronx for the night with Abuelita, he might be able to find out what’s going on. Especially if this is only a Manhattan issue. “It’s been, what, thirty minutes? The gala’s probably gonna get rescheduled or just wrap up as soon as the lights are back on.”

“I’m not ruining one of my best pairs of pants by sitting on the floor,” Rafael retorts. His left knee twitches at the idea of relieving his feet. “I’ll stand for now.”

“You can sit on my jacket, if it means that much to you.”

“Obviously it does, and no, I won’t.”

There’s a pause, and then Carisi’s tone hardens. “Why’re you so pissy all the sudden?”

Rafael’s eyes nearly roll into the back of his head. “Take a look around us and you can answer that one by yourself.” He types out a message to his mother and tries to disregard the sound of Carisi sighing and standing up behind him. He sends the text with a question about how she and Abuelita are doing if they are in the blackout. Carisi is suddenly very close to him, just a hot breath between them. He must have moved that close just now, right? There’s no way either of them would allow it otherwise.

“Look,” Carisi says, “I get it, alright? I wanna get outta here too. But is it really gonna make you feel better to take it out on me?”

“Yes,” Rafael lies. He knows better than to make a bad situation worse. And he certainly wouldn’t believe him if he heard that response. But there has to be something left to do. They can’t just sit in a steel box and look at each other, dressed immaculately despite the clear price differences that must have gone into their appearances, and talk about their feelings. That would be far too convenient for them. Far too lucky. And Rafael refuses to accept it.

He refuses to accept that he had gone slower than he should have to fix Carisi’s bowtie or that Carisi had kept his eyes trained on his fingers with a desperate glint in his eyes. He refuses to accept that Carisi’s kindness both since getting trapped and since his earliest days at SVU extend beyond the treatment of his other coworkers. He refuses to accept the possibility that Carisi might see him as anything beyond a banter buddy at work, a colleague to look up to, a not-so-secret admirer. And he definitely refuses to believe he—Rafael Barba, the silver-tongued Cuban who could out-dress any Oscar hopeful—shares any of the same sentiments.

Carisi doesn’t say anything. Rafael keeps his gaze down and listens to Carisi settle back on the floor with a soft breath. Perhaps it would be best for them to not lash out at one another. Getting stuck in an elevator wasn’t anyone’s fault. And the fact that Carisi nearly allows him to snap at him sets Rafael back. For now, he’ll simply brew in his thoughts and not attack Carisi. Especially when he didn’t have to be here in the first place. He had offered to drive Rafael to the gala. He had been the one to hang back while the rest of the squad went without him.

Rafael massages his temple. Just a little longer in the car and help would arrive. He was sure of it.

_ Thirty-five minutes in _

“Barba, your legs are trembling, just sit down!”

“We’re going to be getting out soon, what’s the point?!”

“Even if we were, it’s not gonna help if you push yourself!”

As it turns out, Carisi had been carrying some tension of his own and had ended up being the one to lash out first. His growing concern for Rafael’s well-being, specifically when it came to whether or not the shorter man would allow himself to sit, had picked up when Rafael grabbed the banister along the back of the elevator and had let out a long, deep breath. It could have been from anything but Carisi was convinced it was related to the fact that he had yet to sit the entire time they had been trapped in the elevator and it showed. Not that Rafael would admit to it anytime soon, but that wasn’t the point.

Rafael checks his phone for messages. There wasn’t much room for them to escape one another, but he needed something to make it look like he was distracted. He doesn’t see much besides his lock screen when Carisi snatches his phone out of his hands. Rafael is barely able to react and has to settle for glaring at him instead.

“Give it back, Carisi,” he seethes, voice as low and threatening as he can make it.

“Sit down and I’ll think about it,” Carisi counters. Rafael lunges for his phone, held as far out as Carisi’s arm can go. There’s a deep grunt beneath him as he locks his knees on either side of Carisi’s thighs and reaches, but a firm arm around his middle keeps him pinned against his chest. Rafael yelps as Carisi’s right hand digs into his side and effectively holds him in place, keeping him from rolling out of his grip and stretching up to retrieve his phone. It also puts their faces inches within each other, to the point where Rafael can feel Carisi breathe with each rise and fall of his chest and count the shades of blue in his eyes.

Rafael opens his mouth to protest but is lost the second Carisi makes eye contact with him again. His mind scrambles and the words he wants to shoot at him vanish into nothing. If there was anything he needed to do, Rafael had forgotten it. He only sees, feels, knows, Sonny Carisi.

Carisi seems to have forgotten as well. He stares at Rafael with a wonder that can only be compared to a young child discovering their first crush. Rafael nearly double-checks himself but the affection is there, bursting from eyes that glow like sapphires in the dim light sneaking up from the first floor. His phone clangs against the floor, forgotten in their proximity and how real everything has become. He doesn’t even spare it a glance—neither of them does, eyes locked and holding one another in place.

Rafael moves first, shoving Carisi’s shoulders and effectively separating them. His rear burns with the harsh drop to the floor but he can at least scoop his phone back up and thrust it back into his pocket. Carisi, pushed back a bit from the force of the shove, watches Rafael press against the opposite wall of the elevator and glare at him. Rafael silently wishes he would do something to stop the uneasy churning in his gut.

“The next time you take something that isn’t yours, I won’t be as kind.”

Carisi, broken out of his daze, just nods and leans against the wall behind him. “Noted.”

_ Forty-five minutes in _

A mechanic is finally able to reach them and informs them of the situation: a fuse related to elevator operations had gone out in the building, but there was an unrelated outage across several blocks in Manhattan. The outage was wide but at least manageable, and they should be receiving full power within the hour. Only then, with the power restored, will they be able to track the issue properly. On top of that, they had yet to receive an answer from the manufacturer of the elevator. Not so much because there was no one answering their call, but they were going though several hoops to find an answer.

“It’s just an unlucky night, huh?” The mechanic jokes. Carisi gives a weak hum in acknowledgement; Rafael says nothing out of spite.

“Can you try and see if there’s a way to get us out of here sooner rather than later?” Carisi asks.

“We can try but there aren’t any guarantees. The space between floors isn’t big enough for you to fit through, and even if it were, I wouldn’t wanna risk putting you two in danger for this.” The mechanic takes a glance at their suits, both jackets thrown over the railing along the back of the elevator. “You two going somewhere fancy?”

“Something like that.”

After a short pause, the mechanic chuckles. “Alright. I’ll see what I can do.”

Carisi waits until it’s just the two of them again, the mechanic returning to the basement to inspect any other internal issues, to speak up. “Sorry for grabbing you earlier. And stealing your phone.”

Rafael just shrugs; he can answer later when he’s feeling up for the discussion. Right now, he just wants to get out of the elevator, even if it’s just to return home and sleep for a week. Anything would be better than being trapped in that cab with Carisi any longer.

Despite not getting an answer, Carisi continues, leaning against the back wall of the elevator with a heavy sigh. “It’s just…we were supposed to be somewhere, y’know? And I know it was all some showy display to make the city look good, but it still feels nice to be recognized for all the hard work I’ve put in.” He pauses, as if debating whether or not he should say what’s on his mind, and drops to the floor again before resuming. “I feel like I’ve done a lot this year, and sometimes it…it feels like a waste. If I make an error in the paperwork, I’m a rookie again. If a lead I follow doesn’t lead to anything, it’s my mistake for taking it in the first place. It sounds selfish, since I’m not on the job for me, but if I don’t feel like I’m helping, how am I supposed to do it properly?”

Rafael checks the floor before he sits beside Carisi, looking out at the lobby from the sliver opened to them. Something in his gut tells him that those feelings resurfaced when he was allegedly fixing details on a file, before he came to pick him up. He’s witnessed the occurrences for himself and he’s shared similar thoughts, especially in comparison to the treatment of other new squad members. Carisi may have been new to the squad when he made his tour to Manhattan, but he wasn’t a greenhorn in any sense of the word. Maybe a little lost and looking for guidance, and definitely needing to understand how SVU functioned. Either way, he wasn’t a newbie as a detective.

Carisi’s eyes lock onto him as he settles against the wall. Rafael wonders if being a prosecutor would change or add onto that feeling of helplessness. “I don’t wanna talk bad about the squad, because I still care about them and I know they feel the same way about me. I just wish they would share it a little more.”

“I understand,” Rafael says in a low voice.

“And none of that excuses grabbing you like that without asking, for the record,” Carisi adds, almost like he hadn’t heard him. “I shouldn’t have taken my emotions out on you and I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“Besides,” he chuckles, “if we’re gonna be in here for a little longer, we should try and keep the peace, right?”

“You talk too much,” Rafael points out, the same low volume as before but with a sharp twinge to it. He’d prefer it if Carisi listened for a moment instead of simply hearing him.

Carisi blinks and his eyes immediately dart to Rafael’s lips. It takes all his willpower to not lick them or do anything suggestive that would possibly raise the tension in the cab. Even though Carisi’s eyes are overflowing with a deep, aching hunger, thirsty for the contact. “Are you gonna do anything about it?”

It’s a dare. Rafael knows it. The corner of Carisi’s mouth twitched in a sly sort of way, a silent invitation to try and stop him from talking. If he can’t shut his mouth, perhaps something—someone—else can help him out.

And what a silencer it could be. Rafael could grab him by the collar and just kiss him right there. Put his tongue to better use rubbing along the inside of his mouth instead. Give his lips new sounds to wrap around. Let his hands hold onto something instead of just wildly gesturing around him. Rafael could nip at his bottom lip, maybe straddle him and take his breath away or let the other man crawl over him and lead the way. He could actually respond to their verbal spars and wistful glances in the way they both silently have been requesting for years.

Rafael could. But they both force the moment to pass and move them along before he can decide. If he were a man of impulses, someone who didn’t think as much and simply acted on the cues they presented one another, perhaps he would have. But it’s Rafael’s antithesis to let his mind go and not think so much, calculating movements and phrases to share.

Maybe next time, Rafael muses to himself. Because there will be one—they always seem to make one happen as if to ask the other if they want to move on from their rut. But the moment passes, and they wait for the next one to be the one where they stop running around it, and they carry on.

_ Sixty minutes in _

Rafael and Sonny talk.

They’re both good at it, for starters. Rafael is good with eloquence and wit. Sonny—he insists on being called Sonny, since they aren’t on duty and they’ve been trapped together in an elevator for nearly an hour—is good at rambling and supplying topics. For the first time since they’ve gotten stuck, it feels okay. They aren’t two coworkers stuck in an elevator together, prevented from attending a fancy gala that neither was entirely interested in—they both agreed that the bigwigs involved were pretentious assholes, not just because their upbringings were the opposite of luxuries and upper-class lifestyles but because their work was not often regarded highly until said assholes could benefit from it. They are simply Rafael and Sonny, two people existing in the same space and trying to make the best of it.

Right now, they have reached the topic of their college experiences. Rafael still sits against the wall, his tie and the first two buttons of his shirt undone. Sonny is sprawled out on the elevator floor, using his jacket as a pillow and stretching his legs out, his shirt untucked as he drags his tie through his fingers.

“And he never noticed the slime?” Rafael asks.

Sonny shakes his head. “If he did, he never said anything, but I don’t think he would have stayed quiet on it. He was an active RA, y’know?”

“Well, it  _ was _ on the ceiling, so it’s not the most common hiding spot, but it’s odd enough that if you see something out of place, you can pick up on it.”

“True. But what were we gonna do, point it out? He would have taken it down!”

“How long did it stay up there?”

Sonny pauses to think. “I wanna say the rest of the semester, but it might have been taken down during spring break. It was our floor’s unspoken rule to leave it alone, so the cleaning staff might have caught on and taken it down when we were all gone.”

“That’s a shame,” Rafael sighs. “It could have made for good tourism. ‘See the slime legendary ADA Carisi threw on a bathroom ceiling in his college dorm. Five dollars for admission, eight to take photos.’”

Sonny chuckles. “Five for admission. It’s worth more than that but I’ll make it free so that everyone can see it.” He pauses in deep thought for a moment, clearly distracted by something else, his tie slipping a bit slower from his fingers. The way his tongue nervously darts out to lick his lips tells him just as much as how quickly he falls silent. “‘Legendary ADA Carisi’ though?”

Rafael just shrugs; he hadn’t realized he had said something to that extent, but he’s more focused on how much he regrets it. He would say it again if he was asked to repeat himself. He would say it again if he was asked just how much he believed in it. He would say it again if it meant Sonny would appreciate his own talents a bit more. “That sounds right. Is that what I said?”

“Come on,” Sonny scoffs, “you knew what you were doing.”

“I didn’t, truly. I was stating an unsaid fact that automatically came to my mind and I stand by it now.”

“I haven’t even practiced anything. How would you know how good I am?”

“I mentored you, for one.” Sonny rolls his eyes at that; Rafael nudges his thigh with his foot. “I know your talents. And I don’t need proof just to see it.”

The corners of Sonny’s lip twitch but don’t make a full smile. It almost looks like he’s forcing himself not to. “That sounds counterintuitive to me. No proof? How are you supposed to support your claims?”

“I didn’t outlaw  _ all _ proof. Just the one that says your talent as a lawyer is judged by your performance as a lawyer.”

“Yeah. Right.” Something in Sonny has changed—his shoulders are stiff, the light in his eyes has dimmed, and the same type of comradery that had been held in his voice has suddenly vanished from his tone. “Those two things sound mutually exclusive if you ask me.”

“I didn’t.”

“Well you should. It’s my law degree. If I don’t think I’m cut out for it, that’s my business.”

Rafael looks over at him, unable to stop the bewilderment from appearing on his features. Sonny has settled for sitting up and pressing his back against the corner of the elevator, right under the buttons panel. A new line of tension can be seen in the stiffness of his legs. Rafael debates questioning him about it but settles for another, seemingly more important, question. “Where did this come from?”

Sonny glances at him but looks away just as quickly. He drops his tie off to the side and crosses his arms. No matter what Rafael says, he has a feeling it will be met with a hard, unrelenting defense. “What do you mean?”

“I think you know what I mean. You’ve always been proud of having a law degree.”

“Have I?”

“With the way you won’t shut up about it, yes. How many times have you offered your legal insight on a case? And how many times has someone commented on it?”

“Don’t sound so fond, Counselor,” Sonny jeers. “I can name on one hand the number of times you appreciated that insight.”

Rafael scoffs at that. “Well now who’s assuming what?”

They share an equally bitter stare, Sonny’s from whatever negativity he has garnered from his law degree, Rafael from his response and sudden attitude change in what had been a pleasant plethora of conversations. Sonny is the first to crack, sighing and sagging even further into the corner. A bit of fight drops off his shoulders and melts to his legs, which scrunch up to his chest and bring his knees to his chin. “Look, I…I don’t wanna fight about this. I’ve had enough of it to last me until retirement.”

“Fine by me.” It doesn’t feel right to push it, especially with the amount of despair radiating off of him. Rafael wonders what could have caused a reaction like this, although he can take a guess based on what he’s seen and experienced. When Sonny first arrived at SVU, he had taken a bit of joy in teasing the detective about his insight and legal expertise. But once he had settled in and actually contributed something, it became less of a joke and more of a hidden appreciation for Sonny’s legal opinions. Rafael’s words became more opportunities for a discussion and less of an attempt to mock him.

It might not have been the same case for others. For now, Rafael lets it drop and tries to move the conversation onto something else.

_ Seventy-five minutes in _

“What was it like when you first became a prosecutor?”

Rafael catches the balled-up tie Sonny had tossed at him. He looks across Sonny’s face to try and deduce the point he’s trying to make. There’s a bit of hesitation lingering in his eyes, but Rafael can’t identify his true intentions with asking the question. “It was interesting,” he says, tossing the tie back. “On the day of my first real trial, I nearly slipped on the steps to the courthouse.”

Sonny smirks at that. “How much is ‘nearly slipped’?”

Rafael tries to hold back his smirk but he feels his lips flicking up. “My ass touched the pavement.” He nudges Sonny when he stifles a laugh behind a hand. “Shut up.”

“I’m not laughing because you fell,” he giggles, “I’m laughing because that’s not a ‘nearly slipped’ moment!”

“It was partial contact!”

“Contact is contact!”

Rafael can’t help but smile as Sonny laughs. It took a short moment to get him to unwind from whatever override his mind had kicked into. To see him relax a bit more, after a proposed game of catch with Sonny’s tie, is a pleasing sight. Rafael grabs the tie out of the air and adjusts the knot to prevent it from unraveling in mid-air. “Other than embarrassing myself, it was fine. Mostly grunt work, working on holidays, a lot of arraignments that no one else wants to take care of.”

Sonny nods. When he catches the tie, he tosses it between his hands a few times as he muses. “Sorta like a cop, then. A lotta long hours, a lotta midnight shifts.”

“Well, longer hours that I didn’t want,” Rafael points out. “I still have long hours.”

“Yeah, fair. But you can choose what you’re actually staying late for.” Sonny passes the tie back. Rafael watches him fiddle with his legs, stretching them out and pulling them up to his chest. “Was it hard to adjust to the job?”

“A little. Mostly because I came right out of law school, so I not only had the mindset of a young twenty-something year old, I also thought I knew everything about the law.”

“That last one didn’t change.”

Rafael chuckles at that and raises his hands in mock surrender. “My ego speaks for myself. But you know what I mean—when you think your knowledge can speak before your experience.”

Sonny nods. “Yeah, I definitely get that. It makes more sense coming out of law school though.”

“If it matters, I think you skipped that stage at least.” Rafael tosses the tie back but it falls into Sonny’s lap. He doesn’t even try to catch it, clearly too distracted by what he said if his wide, owlish stare is any indication. Rafael scoffs, too cautious to ask if he took it personally or not. “What?”

Sonny licks his lips, runs a hand through his hair, and shyly looks away. “Nothing.” He tosses the tie back to Rafael. “Did you always live in Manhattan?”

Rafael lets him chance the subject for now. As much as he wants to comment on it, he’ll hold back for now and wait until there’s a better chance to ask and talk about what’s prompted Sonny’s sudden curiosity in being a prosecutor.

_ Eighty minutes in _

The mechanic returns and updates them on the situation. The good news is that any damage done to the electrical circuit that controls the elevator is easily repairable. On the other hand, it may take a few minutes to see the results, but they wouldn’t know until it was done. At least their time trapped in the elevator is coming to an end.

“For the most part,” Sonny says once it’s just the two of them again, “this wasn’t too bad. It could have been worse.”

“I would have preferred not getting stuck at all,” Rafael sighs, “but if I were to be stuck in here with anyone, I’m glad it was you.”

Sonny smirks at that. “Careful, Rafael. Your softness is showing.”

“Mm, I think you’re just projecting.”

Sonny nudges him with an elbow to his shoulder. “I’d like to think you actually think something of me.”

Rafael hip-bumps him. “I do think you’re annoying.” He laughs and dips out of the way when Sonny tries to nudge him again, this time in the gut and with a sputtered protest to match. “Is that not what you meant?”

“C’mon,” Sonny pleads past an amused chuckle, “you’re really gonna mess with me like that? Right when we were having a moment?”

With a dramatic sigh and an eyeroll, Rafael pretends to think on it. “If I had to give a compliment, then I would say I didn’t mind occupying my time with you as much as I originally thought.”

“How much was that?”

“Half of what I think now.”

“Which was? Gimme a percent.”

“Five.” Sonny rolls his eyes and nudges Rafael a bit harder when he laughs at his reaction. “You asked for a percent!”

“I would have liked some honesty first! Like,” he takes a pause and mulls over his answer, “I had a great time learning more about you and your college years. And I’m happy we made the past,” he checks his Apple Watch, the tasteless thing, “hour and a half entertaining for each other.”

Rafael can’t help but smile at the sincerity layering Sonny’s voice. It wasn’t hard for the younger man to be open, but to be the subject of such warm emotions and to face it head-on was a pleasant experience. A quiet voice in the back of his head asks if there’s a way to always feel that. “The sentiment is the same for me.”

“Well,” Sonny grins, and Rafael can feel his heart melt, “that’s pretty lucky, huh?”

_ Ninety minutes in _

Ten minutes pass without an update from the operator or the mechanic. They had both gotten dressed again, Sonny keeping his tie around his neck and his shirt untucked, in preparation for the elevator to finally free them. But two minutes passed, then three minutes, and then ten minutes are gone without an update. Rafael is attempting to keep his irritation at bay, but with the irate energy radiating off of Sonny, it’s difficult to keep it under control. Sonny doesn’t say anything, but his pacing from either side of the elevator is distracting.

“You’re giving me a headache,” Rafael grumbles when Sonny passes in front of him again.

Sonny barely looks at him when he answers; “Then don’t look.”

“I would love to look anywhere else, but in case you haven’t noticed, I’m just as stuck as you are. Wherever I look, you’ll eventually end up there as well.”

Sonny doesn’t answer, instead facing the button panel and pressing forcibly on the operator’s button. He turns away from it as if he had been scolded and resumes his pacing. Rafael rolls his eyes and halts when a crinkle comes over the intercom for just a moment before going out. Somewhere nearby, perhaps within their vicinity, there’s a soft whirring from inside the building that mimics the sound of something being pulled along. Sonny perks up as well and returns to the intercom, pressing the button a few more times. “Hello!” He hollers. “Are the elevators working again? Can we get out of here?!”

“Stop yelling,” Rafael chides him, tugging on his shoulder and pulling him back with the motion. “They’ll get back to us when they have something.”

“Those noises, that whirring that sounds like an elevator, it sounds like something to me.”

“Even if you did, do you really think you have any jurisdiction over them?”

“I have enough to get us information!”

Rafael rolls his eyes and turns away. “What type of man do I have to be to get stuck with a man as stubborn as this?”

Sonny scoffs, not even missing a beat. “A lucky one, depending on how much you like my stubbornness. Which, by the way,” he smirks, “would be a rich complaint coming from you. Tell me you aren’t  _ that _ oblivious.”

“You made it sound like your stubbornness is a good thing. What could ever come from you refusing to back off?”

Sonny steps closer to him so that they’re barely an inch apart, their chests practically brushing together with each intake of air. “Whatever you’re trying to say, just say it. Rip off the band-aid and get to the point.”

Rafael’s eyes narrow, and his mouth is suddenly moving of its own accord. He can’t help but puff his chest out, just enough to make up for the height difference between them. “I have nothing else to say, but it sounds like you want me to. Why don’t you tell me what you want? Should I call the operators? The fire department? Should I just fix the issue myself so that we can get out quicker?”

Sonny’s scowl deepens with each example that’s listed off. “I think you should stop talking, for starters.” He barely even flinches when Rafael barks out a laugh. “Second, think about what you’re saying, because I don’t like how you’re treating this whole thing.”

“Don’t be shy,” Rafael goads with a sneer. “Tell me how you really feel.”

Sonny’s eyes are piercing and icy cold, bluer than an empty sky devoid of clouds. “I think you’re patronizing. I think you want me to be a prosecutor so that you can prove how much better it is for my career, instead of considering that I don’t wanna leave it without getting more experience as a detective.”

“Do you want to go there?” Rafael asks. “Because I can remind you who actually considered your opinions and didn’t disregard them like I’ve seen the squad do so many times.”

“As if you weren’t the one disregarding them too!”

“I didn’t have to help you study, or give you advice, or let you shadow me! I could have been so much crueler than I was. I could have forced you to take that job in Brooklyn after Dodds was hurt a second time. But,” Rafael pokes the center of Sonny’s chest, “I respected your decision to stay.”

The elevator cab is fuming with negative energy now. Sonny huffs and resumes pacing, shouldering past Rafael when he doesn’t move out of the way. The way they so quickly turned against each other, fueled by anger that had not been caused by either of them, is dizzying to think about. But Rafael pushes the thought away and stands in front of Sonny again. The taller man easily moved past him again, so Rafael resumes his tangent anyway, continuing further than where he had been cut off.

“I think you want me to be like the rest of the squad.” Sonny’s eye twitches at the claim; Rafael presses on. “I think you want me to have a reason to be mad at you. For what, I don’t know. But I know it’s petty.” Sonny just shares a disinterested snort, although the speed of his pace slows down ever so slightly. “I know I’m a difficult person. I know a lot of people don’t want anything to do with that. But I can handle that. Don’t even try and make a situation into something that it’s not.” This time, he’s successful in stopping Sonny in his tracks and forcing them to make eye contact. Rafael suppresses a shiver at how fierce his eyes are. The elevator lights flicker for a brief second. “I support you, Sonny. Whatever you want to do, before and now and after that. And you know that.”

Sonny doesn’t say anything, at least verbally, the fury in his eyes flickering into silence and his jaw clenching as if to hold himself back. His reaction is all Rafael needed for an answer. Sonny resumes his pacing, slower now and with his gaze hardened into a steel barrier; he holds back a victorious jeer.

“You know I’m the only one who gives your legal opinions the time of day,” Rafael continues. “You know I’m the only one who took your study nights for the bar exam as seriously as they needed to be. And you know damn well that if I have ever taunted or made fun of you, it was never out of malice. Especially since I’ve done so much to help you achieve what I know was a dream of yours.”

“Oh my god,” Sonny groans, rolling his eyes, “you talk too much.”

Rafael scoffs and crosses his arms, his tone a daring taunt that cannot be identified as anything else. “Are you gonna do something about it?”

Sonny looks at him and stops pacing, still and silent for a brief moment, and then they’re kissing, Sonny’s hands wrapped around the lapels of Rafael’s jacket to propel their lips together. Rafael gasps at the contact and grabs Sonny by the elbows to steady himself. His legs practically buckle from the force of the kiss and the sudden surge of passion flowing between them. Heat grows in his belly and blooms into a burst of colors—sky blue and a shimmering yellow—that expand when Sonny tilts his head. What must have started as a good silencer has evolved into a genuine kiss, if the hands on his hips are any indication.

It could have been luck that brought them together. Some unseen force dragging them along and crossing their paths until they jumbled together and formed one solid line. Rafael would like to think this was simply a breaking point of years of more-than-platonic tension and banter that looked a bit more suitable for an exclusive relationship. Perhaps, in a way, it’s his own idea of luck—destiny, fate, whatever it wanted to be called—simply playing to his demands without him realizing it. Sneaky, he muses to himself, but appreciated all the same. Especially if it brought him and Sonny together so that they could kiss in an out-of-service elevator.

Sonny pulls away and starts to speak, his lips plump and already shining, but Rafael stops him, grabbing him on either side of his head and pulling him back down. Sonny hums and holds him closer, finally pressing their chests together. Just as he suspected: Sonny is a furnace of warmth that invites him closer and holds him tight. Rafael accepts his demise into tender kisses of Sonny Carisi. When the elevator dings and the door opens to the ground floor, he just wraps his arms around Sonny’s shoulders and falls against the wall. They can deal with that later.

_ Two hours after first being confined _

The gala is rescheduled. Rafael barely looks at the text Olivia has sent in their group chat, more focused on the hand wrapped around his waist and the nose nuzzled into his neck. He can give a response later, when he’s not curled into a booth at the back of Forlini’s and trying to figure out the next kiss he can snag from Sonny. They had taken a while to get out of the elevator, but the mechanic hadn’t spotted them at least. They still had time for a nightcap at their regular bar while they talked things through, especially after the rather loud argument they had shared.

“How did you know I dreamed about being a lawyer?”

Rafael smirks and looks at Sonny with a fond sort of smile. “Lucky guess?” He teases with a light jab to his side. Sonny chuckles and dips his head so that he can kiss along his jawline. Rafael tilts his head to give him more room. “In all seriousness, I saw the look in your eyes. The way you talked about it. The first time I saw you enter the courthouse.” He stops himself, wondering just how personal he can go, but he throws caution to the wind and goes for it. If this thing between them doesn’t last the night, at least the memories of the moments will be bittersweet. “I felt it for myself in my early days.”

Sonny just hums in response. He reaches up and brushes a stray strand of hair out of Rafael’s face. “I really do appreciate you helping me. It still feels weird to me.”

“What does?”

“You supporting me, I guess. Or anyone supporting me. Especially after I got passed around from borough to borough. It’s hard to fathom that I would have coworkers—friends—who care about me enough to support my goals and aspirations.”

“You deserve it, Sonny,” Rafael says. He grabs Sonny’s hand and presses it firmly to his chest, not missing the fond affection that bursts from crystal blue eyes. “You studied hard for your law degree. You passed the bar on your first try. Whatever you decide to do, you’ll be fantastic at it.”

Sonny hums again and curls closer into his side. Rafael presses a kiss to his forehead in hopes that it supplies some form of reassurance to him. He hopes tiny gestures like that can become routine for them, second-nature, signs of endearment that just happen. They’ve only made out once and he’s already lovesick for this gangly giraffe.

(Or, Rafael points out to himself, he’s finally allowing himself to admit it.)

“Can I take back what I said about not believing you?” Sonny asks in a near-whisper. When he raises his head, Rafael has to bite back a dreamy sigh with how vivid his eyes are, even in the dim light of the bar. Sonny is beyond handsome—he’s absolutely gorgeous. “I should have known better.”

“Well, I’m not going to shy away from hearing you admit to being wrong,” Rafael sighs. Sonny shares a chuckle with him and nudges him playfully. “But continue.”

“I dunno, just…the way you’re looking at me. Like I’m a treasure you never realized you had.” Sonny’s lips rise in a slow smile. “Or maybe you did know and you never wanted to admit it. Either way, you’re honest, and I know you would never try to deceive me. Not when you care for me.”

“I do,” Rafael whispers. “If you’ll have me. I’ll cherish you in whatever way I can.”

“Good.” Sonny’s beam brightens up the rest of the bar and glows like a heavenly light. He doesn’t need to say the words for Rafael to know he will be just as dedicated, just as loving, just as hopeless. “I don’t want it any other way from you.”

If luck is what brings them together, if it lets him see Sonny so open and loving and beautiful, Rafael will believe in it every day. There can be good in believing in a little bit of luck.

**Author's Note:**

> Look me in the eyes and tells me Rafael wouldn't go to a fancy event just to show off how good he looks because he ABSOLUTELY WOULD


End file.
